


unlocking the cycle

by TheSpaceCoyote



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Child Abuse, Claustrophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Major Character Injury, Missing Persons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 18:09:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Hux has been missing ever since he promised to talk to his father about moving out.Kylo can't shake the suspicion Brendol knows more about it than he's letting on.





	unlocking the cycle

**Author's Note:**

> One of the prompts for the Bad Things Bingo was "trapped in a trunk," and I'm realizing now they probably meant the trunk of a car. That's, uh. Not what I did. Oops. 
> 
> I get the feeling most people don't use Hux/Kylo as their names in modern AUs, and that makes sense, but I kind of like them both not using their real first names. Idk, if its awkward I'll change it in future explorations of this kind of AU. 
> 
> Heed the warnings on this please! I can see it being fairly upsetting. Otherwise enjoy!

It all starts with a simple request.

“Move in with me.”

Hux halts the rim of his coffee cup right before his lips. His eyebrows lift in surprise for a moment, before slanting back to their usual place. 

“Father won’t like that.”

Kylo snorts, resting his chin in his palm.

“So? You’re old enough not to need your dad’s permission for everything.”

Hux hums, leaning back into his chair. The late afternoon breeze brushes the scant strands of hair not combed back in the style he wears to work. Kylo likes when they meet at this cafe and he can see Hux a little more relaxed, not weighed down by his work or studies. Still clad in his perfectly ironed grey dress shirt, of course, but with a more casual air about him.

Grey is a Monday color. Hux usually grows a little more vibrant as he gets through the week. On a particularly good Friday, Kylo might even see him wearing blue.

“Hey.” Kylo reaches across the table, tapping Hux’s hand.

“Promise me you’ll at least…ask. Okay? Start a dialogue.”

Hux huffs.

“I think you know how well ‘dialogues’ with Brendol go.” His lips alternate between a flat line and a frown, as if imagining such a conversation. He sets his empty mug down onto the table, letting out a sigh.

“Fine. I will… _try_. Later.” He slings his book bag up over his shoulder, before moving to leave.

“Hey.” Hux stops, only for Kylo to grab him by the collar and pull him in for a kiss. He shoots Kylo a frown belied by the blush in his cheeks when he pulls back. Kylo only winks and pats him on the chest.

“Good luck.”

* * *

Three hours later and back in the comfort of his own apartment, Kylo decides to send Hux a text. Mostly to see how things went, and definitely not because he’s thinking how nice all of Hux’s personal belongings would look alongside his.

_> >6:34pm_

_Hey howd it go with the old man?_

Kylo rests the opened phone atop his knee, looking back around the living room. He’ll have to tweak his cleaning habits, stop draping his workout shirts over the arm the couch before he remembers to launder them. Hux isn’t quite a neat freak but Kylo’s seen his room and the order that he keeps, and he would prefer not to drive his boyfriend _completely_ crazy once they move in together.

Hux has always wanted a cat. The landlord requires a deposit for anything larger and messier than a parakeet but Kylo thinks it might be worth it. He’d cover it all out of pocket if it meant getting Hux to agree.

Kylo hopes he will. He’s been considering this for a long time, working up the courage to show Hux just how much he means to him, how seriously he’s taking this.

_> >6:46pm_

_if hes being a dick you can always just come here u know_

It wouldn’t take them too long. There’s not much furniture Hux would have to move in, after all. Most things in the house belong to his parents and he hates their taste with a passion. Kylo can’t really blame him—he’s seen the Hux residence many, many times, and he’s not impressed. It’s bizarrely antiquated, and stuffed full of his father’s ornamented trophies and old military curios, as well as familial paraphernalia that Kylo can’t understand anyone would want.

_“What the hell is that?”_

_Hux drops his book bag atop the ottoman, turning to where Kylo bends over a huge, black and gold trunk against the far wall of the sitting room, lying beneath a rack of Civil War-era swords._

_“That damned thing. It’s hideous, isn’t it?”_

_“I’ll say.” Kylo raps his knuckles against the lid, knock resounding in the dense wood._

_“You know my granddad threatened to lock father up in that thing when he was young and misbehaving?” Hux sneers. “Shame, honestly. I would’ve left him there to rot.”_

_“Hah. If only.”_

Two hours later, and Hux hasn’t answered any of his texts.

It’s then that Kylo starts to get worried.

* * *

Phasma says Hux is interviewing for grad school upstate.

When Kylo presses her for more details, though, she tells him she hasn’t actually _seen_ him, just heard word from his parents. To her credit, she doesn’t seem all that convinced, but waves off Kylo’s more extreme concerns.

“Armie isn’t useless. He can handle himself.”

And that’s true. Kylo knows this. And he certainly doesn’t want to be— _overprotective_. At least not so badly that it’ll end up driving Hux away. He’s just asked the man to move in with him, he doesn’t want to push his luck and scare him off.

So he gives Hux a few more days. Kylo texts him from time to time and leaves a voicemail once, hoping for a response, but doesn’t want to come across as desperate, or creepy. He’s worried, _obviously_ , but if Hux has his reasons for keeping his distance, then Kylo’s going to try to respect them. Even if the possibility that Hux is ignoring him hurts.

* * *

On the third day Kylo finally decides to go by Hux’s house to see what’s going on.

He dislikes both of his boyfriend’s parents for obvious reasons, but if anyone’s going to know what happened to him, it’s them. So Kylo bikes to the ritzy urban neighborhood Hux lives in, zips his hoodie up over the metal T-shirt he’s wearing, and rings the doorbell.

He hopes it’s Hux’s stepmom who answers the door—she seems to like him, at least outwardly—but to his misfortune it’s the reddened, squinty-eyed face of Brendol Hux that peers from beneath the chain lock. He always reminds Kylo of a bulldog well past its prime, toothless and arrogant.

“Oh, it’s _you_.” Brendol hisses, openly disdainful. A usual greeting.

“Mr. Hux,” Kylo starts, deciding it best to ignore the vitriol. “Is Armitage in?”

Brendol’s bushy eyebrows furrow, lower lip jutting out.

“No.”

The door starts to swing close, but before Kylo can hold himself back he grabs the handle and holds it firm.

“Wait!” Kylo’s never liked to sound desperate, especially in front of Hux’s parents. “I…where is he?”

Brendol’s face colors deeper with anger, quickly snapping back.

“Not here. He’s out of town. Let go of my door, boy.”

Kylo glares, searching the part of Brendol’s face he can still see between the door and the jamb. Something’s _off_ , even for the pompous man he’s come to dislike, and for a moment he wonders if he could force his way inside, interrogate this bastard as to Hux’s whereabouts.

“All right. Tell him I came by,” Kylo says, knowing Brendol won’t. He releases the handle and lets the old bastard slam the door in his face, leaving Kylo alone on the stoop.

Cold breezes at his hair, making him shudder even with his sweatshirt. He looks up, searching the flat, dim windows of the home, fruitlessly grasping for an explanation.

 _Hux, where are you_?

* * *

By the fifth day Kylo thinks he’s going to go crazy.

He tries calling Hux’s phone again but it doesn’t even go to voicemail now. It must be out of battery, which is _insane_ —Hux never lets his phone run out of battery, he’s far too paranoid not to be in constant contact with his job, his schooling, his _boyfriend_. Unless he’s being isolated on a mountaintop as some kind of perverse MBA interview, Kylo’s no longer buying that excuse.

Not that he really bought it in the first place.

Phasma says she’ll try to file a missing persons report in the morning, provided they don’t hear from Hux. Kylo can’t wait that long.

* * *

The sun is already setting by the time Kylo decides to go back to Hux’s house, this time not planning to take Brendol’s bullshit. He has no evidence but he _knows_ the old bastard’s lying. Hux, changeable and prissy as he can be—wouldn’t cut off contact with Kylo for no reason. Not after everything they’ve been through together. He just _wouldn’t_.

Kylo pumps the pedals of his bike furiously, cold wind whipping his hair out of the bun he’d tied it back into. He tries to focus on not hitting cars or other pedestrian but his mind is already racing a mile ahead, right to the ornate porch of the Hux family home.

He doesn’t understand how, but he _knows_ Hux is there. After all, he promised Kylo he’d talk with his father right before he disappeared. He’s _convinced_ Brendol’s done something, that somehow he’s keeping Hux in that house, isolated away from everyone who cares for him.

But Hux isn’t stupid. He would’ve figured out a way around his parents, find a means to contact Kylo, or Phasma, or his work. He _must_ have.

 _Unless he’s unable to_. Kylo’s worst fears creep up as he takes a turn too quickly, nearly wiping out against the asphalt. His heartbeat hammers, sweaty fingers clenching around the handlebars.

 _No_. Not even scum like Brendol would sink so low. He _couldn’t_. What could possibly be the reason? Hux has never gotten along with either his father or his stepmom, but they were still his _parents_.

They couldn’t. Unless—

—Brendol has never liked Kylo, never appreciated his closeness with his son. He’s always looked at him with contempt, like he’s tainting something valuable with his mere presence. So Hux has kept their relationship away from his father’s eyes—at school or their favorite cafes, or Kylo’s apartment.

_“He’s obsessed, you know.” Hux rests his head on Kylo’s shoulder, hand sheathed in his boyfriend’s larger one. They sit on Kylo’s large couch, hardly paying attention to whatever’s playing on the television._

_“Your dad?”_

_Hux nods._

_“It’s like he was born in the 1800s. He wants ‘heirs’ to carry on the family name.”He breaths out, derisive and tight. “He’s insane.”_

_Kylo squeezes his hand, resting his chin atop Hux’s head._

_“I mean. We could always adopt.”_

_The chuckle Hux lets out is humorless._

_“Right. He’ll never accept that.”_

Maybe Brendol has never quite understood the depth of his and Hux’s relationship. And Hux has kept it that way, until—

Kylo pushes his bike even faster, heat and anger brimming behind his eyes as he envisions what might have happened. Hux is a fighter when backed into a corner, even in arguments with his father, he wouldn’t have—Brendol must’ve—

Kylo’s mind guides him through the mental map he has of Hux’s house, digging into every niche, trying to uncover what must’ve happened to Hux, where his boyfriend could possibly be—

Then he’s in the sitting room, and some unbelievably force is pulling him towards the northern wall, right beneath the rack of oxidized, heirloom swords as Kylo’s ears fill with the sounds of a distant scream. 

He can barely hold a shock of tears back as his heart drops out of his chest.

* * *

Kylo halts his bike in front of the Hux residence, letting it fall against the sidewalk as he storms up the steps. He forgoes the doorbell and slams his fist below the knocker, pounding into it until the door wrenches inwards to reveal Brendol, still protected behind the chain latch.

“Again? What do _you_ want?” He spits, already furious, but Kylo won’t let himself be turned away this time.

“Let me see Armitage.”

“No. I _told_ you, he’s not here.”

Kylo keeps his grip firm on the handle, preventing Brendol from closing it on him.

“Let me _in_.”

“No. Leave, boy, before I have you arrested.”

Kylo scrapes his knuckles against the door’s carved decoration, lips snarled in anger.

“The only person who’s going to be arrested tonight is _you_ , you monster.”

Brendol balks, mouth falling open.

“Really? All this, over such a runt?” The man shakes his head, looking at Kylo with open disgust. “He’s _gone_ , boy, and you’d best forget about him.”

**_“I won’t!”_ **

Kylo roars and _rams_ as hard as he possibly can, inwards, and before Brendol can react the latch _rips_ from the old wood of the front door, scattering splinters as the golden chain swing wildly. Kylo pushes through the doorway, shoving Brendol aside as he takes off out of the foyer and down the hallway. He can hear Hux’s stepmom scream from the dining room, then the sound of twin footsteps hammering after him at different paces.

Thankfully, Kylo can outrun the pair of them—and he already knows exactly where he’s going.

The persian rug in the main hallway bunches up beneath his feet as he abruptly turns into the sitting room, where he and Hux had spent many an afternoon hanging out after work or school. It’s the most palatable room in the house though that’s not saying much—full of weighty, old-fashioned furniture, tacky wallpaper, and the smell of aged upholstery as it is.

Kylo grabs the heavy armchair he used to sit in, scraping up the hardwood floors as he shoves it in front of the door, locking the carved back beneath the handle. Moments later the door shakes with impact, knob frantically turning in place. Kylo backs away as Brendol screeches and slams his fist against the heavy wood, intimidated only momentarily by the man’s vitriol and threats before he turns around and stares across the room to the furthest wall.

The trunk sits dark and huge and hideously ornamented, right where it had always sat every time he and Hux had wasted hours in this room, studying and talking of the future, stealing a kiss and sometimes more whenever his parents were out of the house—

_“Can you open it?”_

_Hux lifts his eyes from his textbook, tilting his head to the side as he notices Kylo looking at the trunk._

_“Sure. There’s a key on the bookcase, right by granddad’s picture.” Kylo follows where Hux points, landing on a black and white portrait of a severe older man. “There’s nothing good inside it, though. No hidden treasures, if that’s what you were wondering.”_

_Kylo shakes his head, smirking._

_“And here I was, planning on marrying you for your fortune!”_

_“Pfft.” Hux rolls his eyes before returning to his studying. “You’d have to pry it from my father’s cold, dead hands first.”_

Kylo races over to the bookcase, nearly tripping over a gaudy footrest in his haste. He grabs for the fourth shelf up, knocking over Hux’s granddad’s photograph as he grabs for the key braced up against it. The brass feels cool against his sweating palm but calms him little as he stumbles over to the trunk and lands on his knees before it.

Hot tears already leak from the corners of Kylo’s eyes, hands shaking between rage and fear as he fumbles with the key. A harsh sob breaks from his lips when he nearly drops it, the weighty brass hard to keep hold of as he jams the toothed end into the lock.

The pounding on the door continues. He can hears Hux’s step-mom shout something about the authorities, before Brendol angrily cuts her off. Kylo tunes out the argument, turning the key into the lock and opening it with a heavy _click_ he can feel in his throat.

The lid swings up and open of its own accord, base of the trunk rocking only slightly with the weight inside.

A strange noise claws from between Kylo’s lips, wrought with pain so deep it doesn’t even sound human.

At first he thinks Hux must be dead. He’s so _small_ , bunched up and forced into such a cramped space, his knees jammed up to his chest and hands resting beneath his cheek. A bruise had blossomed and died on his face, its edges already fading to yellow. There’s dried blood on his forehead and fresh underneath his fingernails—whittled down to the quick—and it’s painfully more vibrant than his skin, even his _hair_. The usual warm ginger locks look wan and limp, and he’s so pale and still and thin and he’s _dead_.

At first Kylo can’t even touch him, one palm clasped across his face, soaking up his tears and soft whimpers of _no_ and _please_. But then the door shudders from impact, and Brendol’s roaring from the other side, shouting swears and slurs, and Kylo pulls his hand away and tries to breathe, to calm himself enough so that he can finish this—even if it means confirming the worst.

Hux is still in the dress shirt Kylo saw him in last, the light grey fabric wrinkled and grimy. The inside of the trunk is dirty, velvet dusty and stained and smelling, a sickening coffin for someone as fiery and strong as Hux, and Kylo knows he needs to get him out of here, that he doesn’t _deserve_ this, but it’s so hard to get his arms to move, not after the effort of lifting that key, knowing what he’d find inside—

But just as Kylo finally reaches into the trunk, trying to figure out where to put his hands first, Hux’s face _twitches_. Kylo gasps, holding his breath as he watches, for another sign of life just to confirm it’s not his grief-addled brain playing tricks on him. But sure enough, before his eyes Hux’s lips part, a slight cough disturbing the red dust at the bottom of the trunk.

“A-Armie?” His voice is so small, so _tight_ , it doesn’t even belong to him. Kylo wishes it didn’t, wishes he didn’t have to be the one pulling his boyfriend out of a _fucking_ trunk—

Hux doesn’t respond much to his voice, his reddened eyelids only fluttering slightly. With more care than Kylo’s ever used in his life he slips his hands into the trunk, beneath Hux’s hunched shoulders and bent legs. There’s not enough room to stretch him out all the way so he lifts his torso up first, canting his shoulder so Hux can rest his head as he lifts him up and out. His legs finally are allowed to unfold, dangling limply over Kylo’s forearm. 

He sobs again, _harder_ , when he feels how light Hux is in his arms. He’s always been a little on the scrawnier side, but Kylo’s never been able to feel his ribs through his _back_. Has never been able to hold him like a child, like a delicate treasure on the verge of disintegration.

All Kylo can think it’s that _it’s been five days_. Five. Days.

Hux is still so cold and still in his arms he almost can’t believe he’s still alive, that he could’ve possibly lasted that long without suffocation, but as Kylo cradles his boyfriend he can’t deny that barest breath between cracked lips. He clings to it, in fact, the fragile thread that still holds Hux to the living world.

Kylo’s sure to hold his boyfriend close while not confining him— _never_ confining Hux ever again, _never_ would he be trapped like that, oh God, Kylo would _never_ allow it—

Hux moans, his head resting against his Kylo’s broad shoulder. His bloodied fingers twitch against the fabric of his boyfriend’s shirt, curling weakly into it as his eyelids struggle to open. Kylo shakes his head and tightens his grip, pressing his lips to the top of Hux’s hair. It’s lank and dirty, smelling of sick and the musty interior of the trunk but Kylo inhales deep anyway, salvaging the barest cling of familiar shampoo on Hux’s scalp.

“Everything’s going to be okay, all right?” Kylo says a little too loud, perhaps leaning into hysteria, but he wants Hux to really _feel_ it, to know immutably that he’s safe, that no one else will ever lay a hand on him again.

Kylo stays holding him, cradling Hux’s brittle body even as he cradles his phone between his ear and shoulder, even when the cries of Brendol and his wife are drowned out by the scream of sirens as they light the sky outside the sitting room’s only window red. He parts from Hux only when a new voice and a measured knock sounds on the door, and by then his boyfriend’s eyes are opened—the vibrant green now dull and rheumy, his cheeks glistening with quiet tears.

Kylo gets him out of that house quickly, and though Hux looks waxen and exhausted against the bland canvas of the stretcher, it’s a far better sight than what had greeted him when Kylo had first opened that trunk.

Even as he kisses Hux’s scraped knuckles, riding beside him in the ambulance, Kylo knows only a thousand nights spent sleeping at his lover’s side will chase that image out of his nightmares.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you guys like this! And I know it's not likely Hux could've survived for that long, but maybe it's a shitty antique trunk with holes in it. It's fanfic, we can stretch the truth a bit.


End file.
